


In the Mountains Green as Jade

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Bittersweet, Cabin Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, M/M, Nature, Nudity Above Water, Nudity Under Water, Past Unrequited Nixon/Winters, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: Somewhere in the mountains, Dick worked out where he was going, not just "Away" but "Towards." He had an address in his notebook, and a memory of friendship, of a letter sent the last time Dick had felt as low as this.
Relationships: Floyd Talbert/Richard Winters
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	In the Mountains Green as Jade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt: "After things go badly in New Jersey, Dick ends up visiting Tab in his mountain cabin."
> 
> Thank you to searchingforacircuitbreaker for putting together [a bunch of Dick/Tab documents](https://searchingforacircuitbreaker.tumblr.com/post/190143770115/sergeant-talbert-was-in-the-hospital-at-fort) on their tumblr. Much of this fic is based on those, and on various post-war accounts of Dick's life. Characterisation is probably truer to the show than the RL details. I've also done some alterations to Tab's timeline.
> 
> Content notes: For the Winnix fans among us, I break them up hard.
> 
> Title from one translation of "Why in the Mountains" (山中問答) by Li Bai.
> 
> Thank you to Thrillingdetectivetales for beta reading.

With thousands of soldiers scheduled to ship out from Bremerton, Washington, to Korea that afternoon, there was a queue for the phones. Dozens of anxious men waited to call their families, fresh young faces trying to hide their fear, older men like Dick who knew exactly what they were in for and dreaded it. Dick had waited for his turn for half an hour, and two minutes later, when he put the phone back on its cradle, he forced his face into a mask so no one would see his grief.

Shouldering his barracks bag, Dick walked out through the main gates of the base, and then kept walking until he got to the ferry back across Puget Sound to Seattle. Standing at the rail with the wind in his face, Dick tried not to think about how much hope he'd had when he'd shipped home in '45. Then, he'd been thinking he'd see Nix again in just a month, and they could build a life together in New Jersey, as friends if nothing else. Six years later, Dick understood that the friendship Nix could be bothered to offer him, when he crawled out of a bottle long enough to remember that Dick existed at all, would never be more than a new torment invented for Tantalus.

Nix hadn't even held onto Dick's job for him, hadn't even sounded like he thought he should have. Even over the echoing long-distance line, he'd sounded drunk, and like he didn't especially care that Dick had been discharged rather than sent to the Korean Peninsula.

In that moment, Dick had almost walked into his CO's office and told him that he'd changed his mind, that Dick had another war in him after all. Almost.

The worst part was how little surprise Dick had felt, how long ago he'd stopped expecting anything from Nix.

When the ferry docked, Dick walked ashore and bought a newspaper. Two phone calls and a bus ride later, he was the owner of a beat up Ford sedan that predated Dick's military service in the last war. Tossing his barracks' bag in the back seat—now, he realised the majority of his possessions, aside from a few boxes stored with his mother in Pennsylvania—Dick turned the key and started to drive.

He was moving without thought, he knew, almost without sight. He turned the car until the noonday sun was in his face and kept south until he found a highway, then followed that. It was one of the broad, optimistic autoroutes that'd been built before the Crash, but was cracking under too much use now. Dick stayed on it, stopping only for gas, until he'd crossed the wide bridges over the Columbia River. The setting sun lit the water in a blaze of red and gold, but Dick kept on, driving until his sight started to blur and his stomach growled.

The highway had started to lift into the foothills, and Dick didn't trust himself to drive its twists in the dark. He pulled into a rest area and slept until the sunrise woke him a few hours later, then bought breakfast and a road map of Northern California in the next town.

Somewhere in the mountains, Dick worked out where he was going, not just "Away" but "Towards." He had an address in his notebook, and a memory of friendship, of a letter sent the last time Dick had felt as low as this.

He overshot, ending up in Redding, California. There he bought a sandwich, more gas, a better map, and set off again, back up the highway. He found the gleaming new expanse of cement damming the rivers, and crossed it. The road narrowed to a gravelled logging track as it wound and climbed into the hills, and Dick had to check the turns carefully to make sure he didn't lose his way.

Finally, he turned off and headed back down towards the water. This had all been a river valley a few years before, now it was an expanse of sky-blue water stretching to faded rows of mountains. The white cone of a postcard-perfect mountain rose in the distance. Towns and forests had been drowned beneath its surface, but you couldn't tell that now.

Dick took a wrong turn, backtracked, finally got onto the right track by late afternoon. He drove slow, the rough road unforgiving on his tired old sedan. The closer he got, the slower he went. The letter had said to come out anytime, included the address and directions, but that had been so long ago, and Dick had never answered.

He reached the turn into the narrow, weed-grown drive, and pulled onto it before he could stop himself. He'd come too far to go back now.

It was only when Dick saw the truck parked at the end of the drive that it occurred to him that he might have come here and found the place empty, but it was there. Behind it stood a log cabin with a tin roof and good glass windows. Dick parked next to the truck, and when he got out of his car and stretched, he could hear the thunk of an axe. The air smelled pure and sweet, like pine sap, and fresh water, and the sun.

Dick was still in his service uniform, the same service uniform he'd put on the morning he'd expected to ship out to Korea and instead found himself mercifully released from military service. That had been thirty six hours before, and he knew it would be a wrinkled mess, that he hadn't shaved, and couldn't smell that great. Dick hesitated, his hand on the roof of the car, then made himself push forward.

A dirt path led around the cabin down towards the lake, towards the sound of the axe splitting firewood. Long grass falling over the path swished against his pants as he walked. He trailed his hand through it, trying to convince himself that this wasn't a dream. He was so damn tired.

Dick rounded the corner of the cabin and stopped, senses arrested by the sight of Floyd Talbert stripped to the waist, axe descending towards the block. The last of the afternoon sun caught the glint of metal and the sheen of sweat alike. The axe hit true, and the crack of splitting wood filled the air. Tab let the axe fall to his side and rolled his muscled shoulders, left-handedly raking his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. It'd gotten long, covering his ears and brushing the tops of his back, and a neatly trimmed beard strengthened his jaw. Dark hair covered his chest, hiding the worst of the scars, but Dick could still make out the pale line of the bayonet strike just below his ribs.

Tab was more beautiful than he'd ever been during the war, his coltish enthusiasm having broadened and settled into a mature and easy confidence. Dick had seen a little of that towards the end of the war—like when Tab had sprawled on the hood of one of Hitler's Mercedes-Benz like he owned it—but it filled every inch of him now. Dick wished that he were invisible, that his poor shabby self could linger as a shade among shadows, allowing him to keep watching forever.

But it seemed as though Tab could feel Dick's eyes on him, because he turned towards the cabin. His eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to shade them, making sure of what must have seemed a wild apparition. "Major?" he asked, incredulous. The axe chunked into the block, and he strode towards Dick. "Major Winters!"

Deep inside, a small part of Dick sputtered and died at the use of his rank rather than his Christian name. Tab had made free with it in his letters, like they were friends, not a battalion commander and an NCO. Now it was back to Major Winters, and Dick thought again that he ought not to have come.

"Floyd," Dick said, "I... uh—"

Tab's embrace crushed the rest of what he might have said out of his chest, and Dick buried his excuses against Tab's neck. Tab's arms circled Dick in a steel grip, and he didn't seem to care that he was shirtless and filthy from working in the yard, and Dick didn't mind either. He cautiously returned the embrace, hands patting at the small of Tab's back. He couldn't think of the last time he'd been hugged. Maybe it'd been his mother the Christmas before. Dick kept his face pressed to the join of Tab's neck and shoulder and tried to imagine what to say. Something had knotted up his chest and throat, and he thought if he tried to get out more than Tab's name, he'd unman himself with a flood of tears.

"Dick. Christ, where did you come from?" Tab babbled, not slacking his hold on Dick even a little. "Not that you're not welcome, any time you want to come up here, I said, right? Just..." he stopped, and Dick was glad for it.

He knew enough possible ends to that sentence and felt more ashamed of each one that occurred to him. Just that he hadn't returned one of Tab's letters in years. Just that he should have been in Korea. Just that Dick had made it pretty clear, before, that he wasn't interested. Good Lord, he'd been a fool.

Tab pulled away, grinning like his face would split. He took Dick's face in his hands and studied him. His expression turned sombre as he registered Dick's haggard expression and two-day beard. "You look like hell," he concluded, but with the good-natured sincerity that had made him one of the most popular men in the company. Tab had always felt just as comfortable talking to Dick like that as he had to anyone else, and Dick had longed for the freedom to return the affection.

Now, Dick didn't know what to say. Tab's face was so close, they could have kissed.

"Come on," Tab urged gently, "I'm a real mess, and you smell awful. Let's go for a swim."

"All right." It felt good to let someone else take control of his life, so Dick stripped down right there, watching as Tab knelt to unlace his work boots. Tab stood waiting, naked and unashamed, and watched as Dick dropped his clothes in a heap in the long grass. He'd never treated his uniform like that, always taking time to fold it and set it aside, but he knew now he didn't want to wear it again.

When they were both naked, they padded down the dirt path to the lakeshore. Tab whooped and ran the last few strides, diving into the still water like a seal. Dick followed, expecting the icy shock of Lake Zell, but the water was just cool enough to be refreshing. Tab was already swimming away from the shore, arms moving in powerful, even sweeps, so Dick followed. He tried not to think of swimming in Austria, and making all the wrong choices for the most selfish of reasons.

When they were a few hundred yards from shore, Tab paused. He floated with his head out of the water, holding place with sweeping curves of his arms. Dick stopped next to him, and they both turned to look back at the shore. The sun was just setting behind the mountains, deepening the green water of the lake into a glowing emerald. Dick could see the roof of Tab's cabin, and nothing but trees beyond that. A loon called in the distance.

"This is a beautiful place," Dick said, keeping his eyes fixed on the shore. He could feel Tab looking at him.

"Yeah, it sure is," Tab agreed, but didn't say anything else.

The weight of Tab's refusal to ask anything of Dick felt like it was going to drag him under, so Dick said tentatively. "I... uh.... I guess I'm sorry." That seemed to cover most of his life just then, but when Tab still didn't say anything, he decided to choose the most immediate regret. "For showing up. Without calling."

"Don't have a phone," Tab said, and out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw his smile flash. His beard made his teeth seem even whiter. "'Sides, I said you're welcome any time. Recently, if I recall."

Dick knew what he meant, but he shook his head. "You wrote that letter a long time ago, Tab."

"Well," Tab answered, and splashed water at Dick's face. "It still holds true. Every word." Then he twisted his body and dove deep and back towards the shore. Dick watched his naked body through the green water, shadows cast by the ripples cut across Tab's skin, making him seem a creature made of stained glass come to life. Tab surfaced ten yards ahead of Dick and immediately started swimming for shore.

Dick followed. After nine months back in the army, he was in peak shape, but he couldn't keep up with Tab. Still, lagging behind meant that he got a good view of Tab rising out of the water like Neptune, droplets running down his back and over the smooth curve of his ass. He walked up the path to his cabin without a glance back. Tab had only shown the edge of that assurance in Dick when they'd been at war. Though there had been a sort of silent synchrony between them in combat, where all Dick had to do was look, and Tab would know where to go and what to do.

He wished he knew what Tab wanted now. For Dick to follow him, certainly, but what else? Dick had thought he'd seen welcome before, and spent six years proving how wrong he'd been. Dick lingered at the edge of the water, scrubbing himself clean with sand and diving back in to rinse off before returning to the cabin.

By the time he got back, Tab had dressed in clean work jeans and a checked shirt. His hair still gleamed with water, and he stood barefoot in his little yard. "You have anything to change into? I'd offer, but..."

But six years hadn't made Dick four inches shorter. Dick had a set of ODs in his barracks bag, and he put on the trousers and t-shirt, but left off all marks of rank. He liked that Tag didn't have to ask, that he understood that Dick wanted nothing to do with his uniform just then. He should have thought this through better. All his civilian clothes were packed in boxes in Pennsylvania. They were mostly business suits he'd worn to Nixon Nitration, and he didn't know that he wanted much to do with that uniform again, either.

They sat on the edge of the porch, a few inches between them, even though Dick wished it could have been closer, and sipped glasses of cool spring water as the sunset tinged the sky pink.

This time it was Tab who broke the silence, asking, "How long can you stay?"

Dick shook his head. It wasn't a question he could begin to answer, not when all he wanted to do was curl up in Tab's arms and sleep forever.

Tab set his glass down and put his hand on Dick's shoulder, making him turn away from the lake and look him in the eye. "You didn't go AWOL, did you?"

His tone was lightly teasing, and it was enough to make Dick smile back at him. "No, I was released from service," he explained. "They said that any officer who had seen combat last time could elect not to go. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy when I stood up and walked out." In truth, they'd looked at him like they thought he was a coward. "But..."

Tab nodded, understanding. Dick had known he would. "When was this?"

Dick had to count back. "Yesterday morning."

"And you came straight here?"

There was only curiosity in Tab's question, not accusation, but Dick still felt the need to defend himself, to explain. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Tab blinked, whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been that. "What about Nixon?"

It could have meant the person, the place or the company, but Dick only had one answer to all of them. "Nix never came back from the war. Not really. I'm done trying."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Dick didn't want to talk about all the mistakes he'd made since the end of the war.

At least Tab didn't seem inclined to make him. "You can stay as long as you want, Dick."

"Thank you." Dick let his head fall forward onto Tab's shoulder and closed his eyes. Tab smelled sweet, like pipe smoke and lake water, all the beautiful outdoor things he'd filled his life with. Tab wrapped his arms around Dick's shoulders and held him against his chest. He pressed his face to Dick's neck, and Dick could feel the softness of his beard and the wet line of his lips on his bare skin. "Thank you," Dick said again, and his voice caught in his throat, but he didn't cry.

They stayed that way until the sky faded to indigo, and the stars began to appear. Dick was shivering and cold by then, even with the warmth of Tab's arms around him.

"Come on," Tab said, and Dick thought he felt Tab's lips kiss the side of his neck before they drew apart. "Let's get a fire started. Can't come all this way just to freeze in the dark."

They gathered the wood Tab had chopped, and Dick's uniform and barracks bag before going inside. It was a cosy little place, with two bedrooms, a kitchen and a small sitting area facing the lake, but no electricity or running water. Tab lit a kerosene lamp, and hung it from the ceiling. It's glow illuminated the framed pictures mounted on the white washed walls. Dick examined them while Tab started the fire already laid out in the wood stove. A photograph of Easy Company at Toccoa hung next to one of Dick in his Class As in the Alps somewhere, with a group shot of a family with a young Tab in the middle of a pack of brothers next to that. Three pictures to encompass a life, and Dick was in two of them.

Tab's family were still in Indiana, or had been last time Dick had heard. Dick wanted to ask about them, or to ask if Tab was happy out here, as far away from the steel mills of Kokomo as he could get. He'd clearly chosen a different life than whatever he'd hoped to have before the war. Dick looked back at Tab as he was now, bearded and long-haired, happily stirring tinned beans in a pot on top of the stove, and concluded that he must be at peace with that choice.

They sat at the table, dipping slices of bread into the beans, and drinking coffee. Dick kept finding himself studying Tab's face, trying to find the exact nature of the change in him, or maybe just the secret to how a man could be content. He'd never been able to work it out, himself.

Tab smiled when he caught Dick looking, but didn't say anything.

Finally, Dick asked, "Do you remember the letter you sent me in '45?" He thought from a flash of understanding in Tab's eyes that he did, but the lift in Tab's shoulder indicated that he wanted Dick to explain what he meant. "You said, well, uh, you said to remember that I was loved, and that you wished we'd been friends on a different basis."

Tab nodded. "You didn't answer, so I figured..." he shrugged instead of finishing, but Dick understood.

Dick had understood then, too. He'd understood that Tab had known what he was, and he'd understood what Tab was offering, but that Dick had been too yellow to even answer him. He understood how much that silence must have stung, now as he had then.

"Is it too late?" Dick asked.

Reaching across the table, Tab cuffed Dick lightly across the head. "I keep trying to tell you, Dick, you're always welcome. Seems like you used to listen better than this."

Dick didn't think that was true. Back then, he'd only been good at listening to what he wanted to hear, and that'd turned out to be a siren's song. "I'm listening to you now," Dick told him. He rubbed his head, the bristles of his army-short hair scratching at his palm. He'd grow it out, he decided, and never cut it this short again.

"I still love you," Tab said, and when Dick met his hazel eyes, they were utterly full of that old puppy dog sincerity. Tab's gaze had always been a cut right to Dick's heart. Maybe that was why he'd never answered before now.

What would have happened if he had written back in '45? If he hadn't wasted all those years in New Jersey? Would he be settled here, in his own checked shirt and work boots, holding his hand out for Tab like he was now? Or would Dick have been wondering if he should have taken the other path and followed Nix. There was no way to know, now. All Dick had was what was in front of him in this moment.

"I'd like to stay awhile," Dick answered, not directly, but hoping his meaning was clear enough. From the way Tab leaned across the table and kissed him, it seemed like it was.


End file.
